


The End of All Things

by CarrotsandDragons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Broodmother - Freeform, Character Death, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Self-Sacrifice, Tragedy, this isn't their ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrotsandDragons/pseuds/CarrotsandDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looses her in the Deep Roads, then finds her again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my thoughts one day and I had to write it down. I hope I tagged everything correctly. I tagged everything that made sense to me, just in case.

He took a wrong turn in the dark and stumbled upon another horde; they surrounded him, pressing forward with swords, daggers, and shields till they were frozen brittle or set aflame by his magic.

His nose stopped working days ago; he no longer smelt the stench or the burning of their flesh. His staff was broken, but not yet discarded--he could never bring himself to leave it behind. Even in the never ending darkness, the golden icon of Andraste gleamed bright, but he paid the taunting symbol no mind.

"It's no secret that you're no fan of the Chantry Blondie, so why carry that thing around?" Someone asked back when his life was nothing but manifestos and healing. 

"It's a gift, a...promise, I suppose." He smiled when he looked at it then, vowing quietly to never let it go. Even now, when the staff did nothing but remind him of his loss, he'd never let it go.

The thing should have gone to her sister, the only mage left in the family after the death of it's owner, her Father who she so adored, a few years before the Blight which led them to Kirkwall--lead her to him-- but he was gifted with the burden of Malcolm's Honor.

She gave it over with a large smile and cheerless gaze when she realized the Wardens would not let her sister return home to claim it. 

"Bethany always said you remind her of him...Father, I mean. Since I can't use it to shoot lighting at the Templars I, well, I...thought you could make use of instead. Take care of it for me Anders. He would have loved you."

 

His blotched fingers shook with its weight, but he wouldn't put it down.

 

Justice nagged him on; the spirit ripped the image of the past from their thoughts and clawed at the back his mind. There was no time for sad memories.

They were close to the nest--he could sense it.

Sticky white sacks of flesh clung to the walls. The floors were stained and littered with little purple pods that pulsed and throbbed; each about to burst with larva or some toxic phlegm he was probably the first to discover.

No one's traversed so far into the Deep Road in centuries. 

...

  
He stopped seeing the bodies or any remnant of life some time ago; the empty suits of Warden armor disappeared weeks, or maybe it was merely hours, ago--he no longer knew the difference.

She used to tell him what day she thought it was; she used to smile and laugh with him, joking to make light of the hopelessness she felt while her sword scrapped the ground behind her. The shield that carried her family seal was discarded on what she believed was a Thursday, the second since she followed him to Orzammar.

"You shouldn't." He pressed. "You don't have to come." 

"I can't let you do this alone. I'll be fine."

They were ambushed on what She thought was two days later.

 

Despite his trials Anders pressed on, burying those thoughts behind him. Whether it was Justice or his own will that pushed him he didn't know, but he couldn't die yet--so he took another turn.

Tiny Hurlocks, no taller than his thigh,  assaulted him--hungry for their first taste of human flesh. But he summoned a fire through his fingertips that consumed them first, and he continued walking forward.

The Warden Commander, if she were alive, would be proud of him; he's killed so many--but it wasn't enough. Anders walked across their scattered corpses till he reached another door.

 

He lingered.

 

He used to stop and loiter at their bedroom door--she'd leave it a little open for him while she washed away the Lowtown grime or stripped away her armor. He'd set his staff between her swords as he entered, pretending not to know she was pretending not to notice him.

"Hi."

It never matter how he greeted her though. She'd turn around and smile at him and they'd fall together; she'd gasp and moan and stab her uneven fingernails into his shoulders; She'd writhe and bounce--  
\--but she never had quite so many pairs of breasts before.

She wasn't a full grown Broodmother, not yet; her face retained its shape and she wasn't large. Her tentacles were pink and slick, like a freshly grown limb and just as scrawny.

She didn't pretend not to notice him.

"Hi."

 

With a heavy heart and a mind for mercy, he gazed upon her and tried to remember how she was before: kind, wise, and beautiful--the love of his life who gave up hers for his thrice--once to be a fugitive, next  to join him on his calling, and last to push him away when the Darkspawn armies charged. She slammed the door between them with little more than a cocky grin and desperate look in her eyes.

"I love you Anders, don't die without me!"

He took a step closer to where she was, venom dribbled down her chin and she moved the upper region of her body away as though hide herself him.

Her jaw unhinged,  she made a desperate sound that wasn't quite a scream or a cry, and the sound called the mature members of the horde to her side. They clawed and banged their bodies against the door in an attempt to be at her side.

That same desperate look shone in her eyes, and she made that sound again, tentacles rising.

The Darkspawn broke through the door.

Anders set the room aflame with fire and lighting--her favorite spells.

"We'll die here then love, together."


End file.
